


Red Hot

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s funny that they sold the TARDIS instead of Donna when they landed in ancient Rome; or perhaps it isn’t…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** not mine, merely my sarcasm.  
>  **A/N:** written as a gift for [cookie-moi](cookie-moi.tumblr.com) after a comment I made about the following picture.

“You are kidding me!” Donna sighed with exasperation.

“Come to Rome,” he had said. “We’ll see ancient culture up close and marvel at the wonders.”

Yeah, she’d like to marvel at his wonders right that second… All over his face with the back of her hand. 

Placing a firm grip around the bars of her cage, she did her level best to shake the whole thing whilst yelling, “Get me out of here, you pasta munching has been!”

Not very polite in the circumstances, but what’s a girl supposed to do when she has been sold into slavery? It’s not your average, run of the mill problem for a temp from Chiswick. 

“Shut up!” the more glamorous slave trader shouted at her. 

There wasn’t much to choose from between the two slave traders watching over the cage, but you could definitely make a glamor distinction. Donna instantly made her feelings known by using a finger gesture, since one of the other prisoners… oops, commodities... had clamped their hand over her mouth in an attempt to halt an answering retort. She was not pleased! It almost ruined her whole morning. 

The least glamorous trader sauntered over to peer in at her as he cut off and then placed slices of what looked like a pear into his mouth; the rude pig. He didn’t even offer her any. “Don’t damage the goods!” he warned the owner of the clamping hand. “She will fetch us quite a few sesterces come market day.” 

“If you think I’ll go begging for you…” Donna managed to blurt out when she broke away from the hand.

The guard had laughed. “Begging? You won’t go begging, love. It’ll be the other way around when they see your hair.”

She had raised an anxious hand to touch her head. “My hair?!”

“They’ll all be gagging for her,” the second guard agreed, a large toothless grin spread across his face. “I’m already planning what I’ll spend my share on.”

“What’s so special about my hair?” Donna demanded to know. “Are they all wig-making businesses?” It was a question that was more hopeful than enquiring, if the truth were told.

“Nah! Redheads are collectors’ items. Didn’t you know that, slave?” the first guard sneered at her ignorance. “Some stupid myth about them being better for sex. All the better for biting, if you get my meaning.”

Her blood ran cold. Surely that wasn’t what they thought of her. She’d certainly bite kick or scratch any man that tried out any nonsense on her; no one did that anymore and got away with it. Drawing herself up to be as haughty as possible, she asked, “What if I refuse?”

“You won’t have any choice in it, darling,” the second guard gleefully informed her. “You’ll be their slave to do with as they deem fit.”

He really did relish those words far too much; so she did her glare of death at him. With a defensive sniff, he deliberately turned away so that he could be unaffected by her continuing stare. A small part of her trilled with triumph.

“I won’t be when my husband turns up. He’ll sue the backsides off you!” she spat out.

“So you keep saying, Red,” the first guard retorted. “I’d like to see the evidence that this bloke exists; that’s what I say.”

“He does exist,” she assured them. “And he’ll kick your butts!”

“Fine words,” the guard replied with exasperation. “If he wants to pay up, he can have you; but until then, you go on sale first thing in the morning and I’ll be rid of you for good. Thank the gods that you will be, because your incessant moaning is getting on my nerves!”

Donna sank into her corner of the cage. There was no point in continually goading the guards. No, it worked much better if she were sporadic with it, leaving them unprepared for her verbal onslaughts. Up until then she had won every round, but there was only so far you can push that kind of thing.

Peeping out of the rails, there was still no sign of the Doctor. Where could he have got to? This wouldn’t do. Searching around the small cage frantically with her eyes, she started to forge a possible plan for when the cage door opened in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Early morning came, and there was still no sign of the Doctor. Even swearing at the slave trader guards was no fun anymore, so Donna eased herself in to a position where she could see any proceedings, since this was all so new to her. 

“Don’t worry, love,” one of the other people in the cage mumbled in to Donna’s ear. “I hear they’ll start with the old and useless in an effort to boost up the price of those that are fit.”

“Are you trying to say I’ll be one of the first to be sold?” Donna had indignantly asked.

There was an answering shake of the head. “Oh no. They’ll probably save you for almost last, what with your bright red hair and all.”

“Thanks,” Donna retorted; partly glad she’d have her freedom for a bit longer, and partly scared that whoever ended up buying her was going to expect an awful lot for his money. With a deep sigh, she turned her face to the bars and desperately looked out in to the gathering crowd.

“He still not turned up then?” another women queried in what could have been mistaken for friendly teasing tones. “That’s if he ever existed…”

“Shut it!” Donna bit back. “I don’t need to convince you to know he does. And you’ll be bloody grateful when he turns up.”

“Of course I will,” was the sarcastic reply.

That was it! Donna forced herself up against the woman in a menacing manner. “You will bless the day he was born by the time he is finished; so if I hear another word out of you I shall personally rip your…”

“Captives!” one of the guards interrupted her by yelling loudly. “Prepare yourselves for the slave market. Anyone who tries to escape will be put to death. Immediately!” He then threw in a meaningful glare at them all whilst holding on tightly to his sword.

“Not exactly going to win prizes for being welcoming, is he?” Donna uttered to no one in particular. “They’ll lose their Michelin stars at this rate.”

“QUIET!” the guard shouted directly into her face, spittle landing all over her clothing.

She flicked off as much of it as she could and glared at him in revulsion. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? You seriously need to get someone to invent toothpaste.”

A large stick came down, hitting the bars in front of her face with such force that the whole cage shook. There was a gasp as everyone tried to back away from the impact spot. 

“You are lucky we are selling you this morning or you would have been beaten to within an inch of your life, Celt!” the guard spat out irately. 

As he stomped away, she commented, “Yeah, really lucky. Look at all the luck I’ve got and am giving.”

Fortunately he didn’t hear her but was more intent on heading for the nearest supply of wine to quench his sudden thirst.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” a woman to her side anxiously whispered.

“Why? What’s he going to do?” Donna retorted. “Sell me off or something? Like he wasn’t going to do that anyway.” 

They shared a glare, and then Donna went back to thinking.

Outside the cage there was an obvious dais that would presumably be used as the setting to parade them before any sale was carried out. If they were displayed in a group she might be able to edge her way over to the outer area which looked as though it was quite near an open alleyway, devoid of any stalls. The drop from the dais to the ground wasn’t too far to jump, and then she could be off, and on her merry way; wherever that might be. As plans go, it wasn’t brilliant, but at least it was a workable plan for the time being. 

Her musing were loudly interrupted by the large padlock on the gate to the cage being opened, and then four poor souls were dragged out by a huge hulk of a man who bound them together first using their wrist bindings.

Bugger! If they were going to ruin her first plan like that, she’d have to bite through the hemp they were using at a fast rate. Would she be able to do it in time? And what other option did she have? Not a lot, by all intents and purposes. 

It felt like hours, standing there waiting as several more batches of slaves were dragged out of the cage, until there were only a few stragglers behind. But Donna Noble didn’t do scared, not when it was in front of other people. The only person she had allowed to see her cry was the Doctor, and he had never mocked her for showing her feelings. Where was he? Her heart sunk as she considered the fact that he might never get to her in time.

And then the inevitable happened. The guard opened the cage and sneered gleefully at her. “It’s your turn next, Celt. I’m going to enjoy this one!”


	3. Chapter 3

The guard roughly grabbed hold of the cord that bound Donna’s wrists, and pulled, taking no notice or care whether she was following easily. Even when she stumbled as she crossed the threshold of the cage, he made no attempt to slow or show any mercy. 

“Shouldn’t you be preserving the goods?!” Donna demanded from his unfeeling back. “This had better be a proper date you’re taking me on, with dinner and dancing.”

Without turning, he chuckled and yelled back, “I’ll miss you, Red. Once you’re up there and sold, you won’t be my problem anymore, and I’ll have plenty of sesterces to spend.”

“You’re all heart,” she mocked, but he didn’t reply since they had reached the dais and he was busy undoing some of her bonds.

“Just get up there, and show them what you’re worth,” he grumbled, and gave her a shove.

Using great caution, she climbed up onto the dais as best she could, not wanting to land splat on her face. Well, a girl has to have some pride, after all. There was a murmur of interest as she stood up, and then the noise increased as she gave several punters her glare of death. The sight of a redhead for sale was a rare treat, and there was suddenly a great deal of anticipation concerning how much she was worth and who would end up with her as their prize.

The master of ceremonies jumped jubilantly onto the stage, and began his selling spiel. “As you can see, fellow citizens, today we have quite a rare specimen for your delectation; a genuine red head no less, all the way from Britannia.” 

A hand from the crowd reached out and tried to touch the hem of Donna’s tunic, and she reacted with venom as she flinched away. “Get your filthy hands away from me!”

Guffaws of excited laughter rose up from the assembled people.

“This woman, as you can see, is full of fire and passion, with the voice and grace of the goddess Venus herself,” the slave seller announced joyfully. “She would make a very fine accompaniment for any citizen’s bed chambers. Not every bedfellow would be this magnificent, this sweet to master or this well-endowed!”

“Oi! Mussollini! What exactly are you implying?” Donna roared at him before she could help herself. “Nobody gets to lay a finger on me!”

He ignored that, and continued, “Red here doesn’t want a finger laid on her. Who would be willing to do more?”

Feral growls filled the air as greedy eyes from the crowd leered at her. So much so that Donna quickly decided that staying quiet might be the best option in this situation. Who knew what ideas the blighters might come up with? The mind boggles. 

“See how she cowers when faced with lust, citizens! She would be very willing to do your bidding,” the seller claimed.

Oh for the love of Pete! Was there anything she could do to stop this idiot from making her sound like the Roman equivalent of Mata Hari? “And look at how willing she is to button your cake hole,” she sarcastically pointed out, raising a threatening fist in his direction.

Another roar of delighted laughter filled the air, but she rather got the impression they were laughing at her rather than with her. The sound increased when yet another hand reached out to touch her leg, and landed on her calf. Letting out an angry growl, she kicked it forcefully away. The owner of the hand yelped in pain, but his associates thought it was wonderful!

Her senses went on alert and she readied herself to flee when she heard the next shout.

“Do I have the first bid for this delicious specimen?” the seller cried out.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor sat seething in his cell. He could hear quite plainly from the high up window that a large crowd had gathered outside in the square that adjoined the one his current prison cell was in. It didn’t matter a great deal to him in that moment; it was probably a political rally or something. 

But his interest and concern grew when he heard the tone of the crowd turn quite lecherous and leering. What the hell was going on out there? Trying hard, he vainly climbed up the corner of his cell to look despite the shackles on his wrists, but there was nothing to see out of the narrow gap that would inform him of anything; just another dusty set of worn out paving slabs. 

Then there was another roar from the crowd and an answering shout; a shout that made his blood run cold. It was Donna, and she obviously had to defend herself against the mob.

“Let me out!” he yelled his order through the bars of his confinement, practically throwing himself at the door. “I demand you let me go free!”

A guard slowly sauntered over and closely regarded the Doctor. “As I keep telling you, slave, you won’t go free until your master comes and collects you. Running away is against the law, as you well know.”

“What about my friend?!” the Doctor desperately cried. “What’s happened to her?”

“You were a fool to try and be her master,” the guard scoffed.

“Don’t I know it,” the Doctor mumbled to himself. “Where did you take her?” he asked more forcefully.

The guard grimaced at him as though it was beyond his wits to even answer. “She was taken to where she can get better employment and a proper master. It’s none of your concern anymore.”

“Tell me!” the Doctor ordered, almost blind with concern and fury now. 

But the guard deliberately ignored him and walked away. The Doctor continued to press himself up against the bars of the cell door, watching and listening, as a new voice filed in to him from within the building.

“I’ve come to collect my property,” he heard.

“Caecilius!” he muttered in awe and realisation. “Caecilius!” he called out loudly to attract his attention. “I’m here!”

In less than ten seconds the very welcome sight of Caecilius was standing before his cell door, looking rather vexed.

“He is such a wilful slave,” Caecilius said conversational to the guard. “His intelligence is both a blessing of the gods and a hindrance.” He then turned his stern attention fully on to the Doctor. “As your master I am most displeased with you, Spartacus.”

The Doctor would have been annoyed with him, but Caecilius added in a micro-wink that he eagerly took a cue from. “I am so sorry, master, for displeasing you, but my concern was for the welfare of Donna. They took her away from me.”

“They did?” Caecilius asked in shock. “Where is she?” he demanded from the guard.

The guard was quite submissive and repentant. “The slave market, my lord. She claimed she had no master, so she was taken off to be supplied with one.”

“FOOLS!” Caecilius raged. “Return my property to me at once,” he commanded, pointing at the Doctor. “And I shall have to retrieve my other slave myself. Did you not see that she is a redhead?”

“Yes, my lord, but...,” the guard started to defend their actions.

“And as such she would never be willing to admit ownership over her,” Caecilius continued, unabated in his wrath.

“Ah, you see, my lord...” The guard was quite contrite.

“I paid good money to obtain one as fiery as her, and you have stolen her from me!” Caecilius practically raged at him.

A wince appeared on the guard’s face, and he vainly tried to smile cutely. “I’m sure the mistake can be rectified, my lord,” he tried to console him whilst he flustered to open the prison cell door as quickly as possible, and then undo the chain around the Doctor’s wrists. 

“I shall hold YOU responsible if I do not regain my redhead,” Caecilius threatened the guard with a thrust of his finger, and then beckoned the Doctor to follow him as he marched away.

“Thanks for that,” the Doctor grateful said as they entered the harsh light of the outside world.

“Think nothing of it,” Caecilius replied modestly.


	5. Chapter 5

“Why weren’t you able to escape?” Caecilius then asked his friend in disappointed confusion.

“I couldn’t reach my...” The Doctor then realised that Caecilius had no knowledge of his sonic screwdriver but did know he had alien technology. “...potential,” he lamely finished. “Not everything is easy when you are set upon by a gang intent on using you for their own gains.”

“We shall talk of this later,” Caecilius decided as they continued to first walk and then run quickly as they got nearer to the sound of the crowd the Doctor had heard from his cell. “There are other things to consider first.”

He led the Doctor into the square where the slave traders were marketing their wares. Up on a dais stood, to his horror, was a filthy and desperate version of Donna. Her eyes darted about looking at the crowd, unseeing in her terror. “Oh Donna!” he involuntarily cried under his breath. 

“Two sesterces!” came the first bid from the crowd.

‘What? Is that all?’ she thought; and then had a proud moment when the bidding sum gradually rose in value. ‘That’s more like it’ she couldn’t help allowing herself to think. 

After a flurry of bids, the slave seller eventually yelled out, “Sold, to the man in the weird clothing next to the Senator!”

A sea of heads turned to see who it was.

“Come and collect your property,” the seller bade him forward, with grabby hands. 

To the side of him, Caecilius took charge and shouted, “Stop this charade! You have no right to sell her!”

“Why, ‘tis Caecilius!” one man gasped out in astonishment as the man himself strode as purposefully through the crowd as he could. 

“Don’t look now, but I think it’s volcano day!” Donna commented when she spotted the Doctor also making his way towards them.

The seller up on the dais was extremely miffed by this interruption, especially since the bidding had gone temptingly high. Thinking this might another one of those irritating freedom fighters who spouted equality for all, he yelled, “Go about your business elsewhere, citizen, and let me do mine! This is not your concern.”

He was ultimately shocked when both Caecilius and the Doctor jumped up onto the dais, and readied himself for an attack by drawing his sword.

Caecilius ignored this. “My concern and business is that you have stolen my slave to sell here.”

Donna had by this point flung herself into the Doctor’s willing arms, to be held safe within his embrace. “It’s true; he is my rightful master.”

Now able to reach into his pockets, the Doctor withdrew his psychic paper and waved it under the seller’s nose. “Here is the proof of ownership you desire.” When Caecilius gave him a little cough, he added, “My master is most displeased with you.”

Having peered at the evidence for some seconds and deciding it wasn’t counterfeit, the seller reluctantly announced, “The redhead will be returned to my lord Caecilius this day. All bids are annulled.” 

There were a few hesitant boos from the crowd, otherwise they were entertained by this unusual drama.

“Thank you, Maximus,” Caecilius politely said to the seller as he gestured to the Doctor and Donna to leave the dais.

“You owe us for her keep,” Maximus stated as they turned to go. “If you ever consider selling her, do let me know. You should have fun with her tonight; I am sure you will extract her gratitude most pleasurably.”

Before Donna even had time to blink in indignation, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and zapped the seller’s boot, causing the binding to tighten painfully around his foot.

“Ouch!” Maximus squealed in pain.

“The gods punished you for speaking out of turn,” Caecilius imperially informed him, much to the delight of the crowd. “Her protector is the god Vulcan himself, having spared her from the flames of Pompeii.”

Disbelief and then awe crossed the seller’s face as he noticed the device in the Doctor’s hand and the possessive way he still held on to the fiery redheaded woman who was yet to be identified as Donna. It convinced him that here before him stood Vulcan and the woman the god had chosen to protect. Did this mean she was a goddess; his goddess?


	6. Chapter 6

Maximus had heard many tales of how the gods had rescued the family of Caecilius but up until that point he had disbelieved the story as fanciful. To try and verify this, he asked, “Was the god Vulcan in disguise when he carried out this act of protection?”

It was too hard for the Doctor to contain his mirth. “He had special clothing; that is true.”

“He also had a fair amount of good luck,” Donna retorted, looking fondly up at the Doctor and remembering their lucky escape from the pod. 

Grinning back down at her in equal affection, he stated, “Very good fortune to be with you.”

“Give over, you tart!” she bashfully responded, and batted at his chest. “Anyone would think I’d done something special.”

“That anyone would be correct,” he replied with delight. That had been rather a special moment for him; for both of them. 

Caecilius tapped him on the shoulder to halt their exchange of banter. “Could you two continue to flirt with one another elsewhere? We need to leave this place so that you can return home.”

This gained an instant knee jerk response from the travelling duo.

“We’re not a couple. Never ever.”

“I’m not his woman. We aren’t married.”

Their usual dance of denial played out and Caecilius sighed with exasperation; he’d heard it all before. “I see you haven’t changed your song over time.” With a shooing motion, he finally got them to leave both the dais and finally the square.

“What happened there?” one confused member of the audience asked to the people around him in general.

“We have been visited by the gods Vulcan and Vesta!” Maximus jubilantly proclaimed. “Give thanks for their generosity!”

The crowd then surged towards the nearest temple to make personal offerings to the gods, and the seller made sure the remaining slaves waiting to be sold were released in honour of this extraordinary day.

Not a bad end to the day, considering...

 

“That Caecilius,” Donna began to say as she trailed a finger distractedly over the TARDIS console.

“Hmm?” the Doctor wondered as he looked up from consulting the console monitor. “What about him?” 

“It’s really weird that he put us up on his wall as the house gods,” she commented.

“No weirder than posting up a picture of your favourite actor or singer,” the Doctor considered. “In a secular society aren’t they worshipped in a similar way?”

“I suppose so,” Donna reluctantly admitted, and worked her way around to where he still slouched over the console. “But it seemed more than that. I know this is going to sound absolutely daft, but…”

He removed his glasses and thoughtfully waited for her to continue. “But what?”

“Well…” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I think he might have had a bit of a crush on me.” 

A slow smile became a huge grin on the Doctor’s face. “Who could blame him? You are rather brilliant!”

“You’re just saying that,” she inevitably scoffed.

“No; I know so,” he insisted. “Now where would you like to go next?”

“Twenty feet in that direction,” she teased him with a side movement of her head. “I’m going to go and wash all this muck off me, have something to eat and then enjoy a decent cup of tea.”

“Wonderful idea!” he agreed. “See! I told you that you are brilliant.”

“If I’m brilliant, what does that make you?” she threw over her shoulder at him as she left the console room.

“Yours,” he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him. “And an idiot for not telling you.”

To his utter amazement she came rushing back into the room, and planted a kiss on his lips before he had time to react. Pulling back and giggling with delight at his dazed and gobsmacked expression, she told him, “That was for coming to rescue me, Spaceman, and getting Caecilius to help. Sorry about it being a kiss; and I promise it won’t happen again.” With a small shy smirk of apology, she dashed away, leaving him alone again.

“Oh no… I’m not annoyed. Please feel free… any time you like,” he dreamily stammered in her wake. Now _this_ was interesting. Who knew, she might try it again after all, if he was lucky.


End file.
